


The Quidditch World Cup

by reachfortheschuyler



Series: The Brave at Heart [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Death Eaters, F/M, Future, OQ on Holidays Week, Personal Prompt, Quidditch, goblet of fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachfortheschuyler/pseuds/reachfortheschuyler
Summary: OQ on Holidays WeekWritten for a specific prompt for The Brave at Heart: Robin and Regina's first vacation after getting together.Future oneshot set one year after the end of TBAH. No spoilers for TBAH.Robin and Regina take Roland and Henry to the Quidditch World Cup.





	The Quidditch World Cup

Robin never played in the Quidditch World Cup. He got close, once, when Germany knocked out Ireland in the quarterfinals, but then they lost in the semis against France. That season was the best of his career- the Harriers won their league championship and Robin was selected for the national team. That was also the year he set the record for most quaffle steals in one match, a record that still stands to this day.

But no, he never played in the World Cup. He wishes he did, because then he would have some pretty cool stories to tell Henry and Roland as they make their way through the crowded campsite of thousands of quidditch fans, all waiting for the World Cup Final later tonight. 

But instead of having cool stories, he just has a headache. A headache that stems from their extremely early departure this morning, the stress of having to keep track of two excited teenage boys, and the overall chaos of this gigantic campsite. Thank Dumbledore he asked John to set up their tent yesterday or else he’d have another reason for the pounding behind his eye.

“Where are we going, Robin?” Henry calls over his shoulder, narrowly avoiding a collision with an intoxicated Bulgaria fan. 

“Just a little further ahead,” Robin shouts back, glad that his godson grew a good bit over the last school year. Thirteen- turning fourteen in a week- has suddenly made him seem older, more mature. It certainly makes it easier to see his head over the crowd. “Roland- pay attention, now!”

Roland ducks his head just as a wizard flies over the crowd on a broomstick, holding a sparkler in the air. It takes a second, but then Roland’s head of shaggy brown curls pops back up and he sends Robin a grin of reassurance before scurrying off to follow Henry. Roland is still a few months off from thirteen, and the age difference between him and Henry has never been more apparent.

Robin exhales as he watches the boys weave through the crowd, radiating excitement.

“Relax, Professor Locksley,” Regina teases as she comes up beside him and takes his hand. “You’re supposed to be having  _ fun.”  _ Regina, for once, is quite relaxed today, her smile easy and her shoulders loose. Vacation, however short for them, sits with her quite well. 

“I’ll have plenty of fun once we’re out of this crowd,” Robin replies, pulling her into him and out of the way of a drink vendor pushing a cart. 

Regina smiles and tucks her free hand around his bicep, thumb rubbing his skin under his t-shirt sleeve. “And you say I get stressed.”

“No, I say you get stressed about needless things,” Robin corrects as he leads her through the throngs of people, a few meters behind the boys. “This is not a needless thing to stress about.”

He thinks she says something else, but her voice gets drowned out by the boisterousness of the crowd as they pass a group of lively Irish fans. Luckily, the majority of Irish supporters are either too drunk or too busy leading chants to recognize the man who played a large part in eliminating their team two World Cups ago.

It takes one final dodge and pivot around a couple of Bulgarian teenagers and then, finally, their tent is in view. “Henry!” Robin shouts, grabbing the boy’s attention and pointing at their tent.

He nods and grabs Roland, darting through the brown flaps. 

“Home sweet home awaits,” Robin tells Regina cheekily as he pushes open the one flap for her.

“Mm, we’ll see how homey a tent can be,” she says doubtfully, smile on her face nonetheless.

Boy, does he have a surprise for her.

* * *

 

“Whoa!” Roland exclaims as he stands in the middle of the large room, spinning around slowly. “This is awesome!” 

Regina’s eyes widen as she takes in what is very much  _ not  _ the inside of a tent. There’s a kitchen and dining area, a couch and armchairs, a fire pit, and smaller alcoves off to either side with beds in each. Large swaths of fabric drape from the center of the ceiling to the corners, and windows dot the outer walls. She turns to Robin, flabbergasted.

“I thought you said-”

“I said we’d be staying in a tent,” he interrupts with an air of pride. “And we are. But a very nice tent, at that.”

Regina smiles and rolls her eyes. He  _ would  _ go through all the trouble of magically altering their tent just to make sure they were more than comfortable. 

“What do you think, Henry?” Robin asks, turning to his godson.

Henry shakes his head in amazement as he takes in his surroundings. “I love magic,” he says a bit breathlessly.

Robin glances back at Regina with a grin, winking at her before leading Henry further into the tent. “I figured you boys could take those two beds…”

Regina cups her elbows as she watches Robin show Henry around with fatherly affection. They’ve come a long way, those two, and she can only imagine how happy Daniel would be with their relationship. 

“Which team are you going to root for, Professor Mills?” Roland asks as he pops up beside her, his curls bouncing in his eyes. 

“Oh, I think I’ll support Ireland,” Regina answers, fighting a smile as Robin’s head whips around. “They deserve it. I heard they were robbed a few years ago by some German scoundrel.”

“You’re joking,” Robin says, narrowing his eyes gamely. “You  _ can’t  _ support the Irish.”

“And why ever not?” she asks as she puts her hands on her hips.

“Because they’re a bunch of rats, that’s why,” Robin explains. “And we need to root for Bulgaria because my good mate Alan plays for them now. He and I were on the Harriers together, but he signed with the Vratsa Vultures last year and then got selected for their national team this year. He’d kill me if I didn’t root for them.”

“Okay, then you can root for them, but I’ll be supporting the Irish,” Regina says, eyebrows raised, brokering no room for further argument.

Robin shakes his head. “My own girlfriend, a traitor.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to Roland. “Dramatic, he is.”

Roland looks between them, unimpressed. “You guys are weird when you flirt,” he says matter-of-factly before walking off to meet Henry in their shared alcove/bedroom.

“Cheeky,” Robin chuckles as he closes the distance between them, looping his arms loosely around her waist.

“Hm, teenage sass is more like it,” Regina counters, resting her hands in the crook of his elbows. “So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day? We do have a bit of time before we need to head to the stadium.”

“Well, I was thinking we could eat some lunch, and then… just relax,” Robin says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Henry mentioned that Merida and her family were staying nearby, so maybe we can send the boys off with them for awhile, and you and I can be together.”

“Oh really?” Regina hums, leaning up on her tiptoes. “That sounds like a good plan.” She presses her lips gently to his, a sweet bit of contact that sets her heart aflutter. 

“Ew.”

Regina pulls away to see Henry making a face at them over Robin’s shoulder. “Don’t you need to unpack your bag?” she asks pointedly, eyebrow raised.

“I was going to, but then I got distracted by something gross.”

“Alright, men, why don’t you leave the unpacking for later and find Merida? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you,” Robin suggests, turning toward the boys but keeping his one hand on Regina’s hip. “Be back in an hour for lunch.”

“Got it!” Henry calls as he and Roland scurry out of the tent, the prospect of not having to unpack probably outweighing their want to see their friend. 

“And just like that, relaxing has moved up an hour,” Robin says smugly, reaching for her hand and leading her to their alcove.

“What a genius you are,” Regina laughs, rolling her eyes. She lets him tug her onto the bed and settles back against the pillows, turning over so they’re on their sides facing each other. “I hope you’re not planning on getting frisky with me,” she teases. “I don’t have sex in tents, just so you know.”

Robin chuckles and trails his hand down down her spine and back up. “Noted. I was actually hoping we could take a nap. I’m exhausted and the day’s barely half over.”

Regina scrunches her nose. “I don’t nap. Naps are for the lazy.”

“Yes, well, we’re on summer holiday, so I think we get to be lazy for once.” He rolls onto his back and pulls her into his side, sighing as he closes his eyes. “Perfect.”

Regina shakes her head even as she rests her cheek on his chest. “I will lay here with you, but I’m not going to sleep.”

“Of course, darling.”

An hour later, the boys come trampling in, and Robin has to shake Regina awake while doing his best to hide his smile.

* * *

 

The game itself is positively thrilling. Thousands of cheering fans fill the stadium, scores of red and black, and orange and green, alike. Their seats are pretty decent, Robin has to admit. He reached out to Alan a couple of weeks back when it looked like Bulgaria had a good chance of making the final, and his friend promised to pull some strings for him should they actually make it. They’re just slightly above playing level, and right against the railing so it’s easy to lean over and see all the action.

Henry and Roland are practically bursting at the seams with excitement, forgetting to play the part of uninterested teenagers. And Robin is nearly bursting with them, high on the thrill of the game and the energetic atmosphere. He misses playing in front of a crowd this loud, misses getting hyped with his teammates, misses hearing the cheers whenever a goal is scored. It’s an experience like no other, and he’s glad he gets to share even a piece of it with the three people beside him.

Regina, despite her insistence that she does not support professional quidditch (“chasing a ball for a living is  _ not  _ a living, Robin”), gets invested in the game just as much as the rest of them, cheering when the Irish go up by several goals. She’s laughing and smiling, and Robin’s never seen anything better, this easy happiness that’s quick to come to her nowadays. 

The game itself is good, despite being lopsided. The Bulgarian defense is atrocious, allowing nearly five goals in a row. And while their offense is playing well, the Irish defense is letting little by them, holding the Bulgarians to only one goal in the first twenty minutes. The Seekers are noticeably struggling to find the Snitch, and in the time it takes them to spot it, the Irish have accrued 170 points to Bulgaria’s dismal 10. Cheers rise throughout the stadium when the Seekers give chase to the Snitch, but Robin boos. 

“What’s the matter? They spotted the Snitch!” Roland shouts, bouncing up and down.

“But Bulgaria doesn’t have enough points to win if they catch it!” Robin yells back. “The Irish are going to win!”

And sure enough, they do. The Bulgarian Seeker catches the Snitch, but with the lone goal scored by the Bulgarian Chasers, their final score is only 160 to 170, handing the Irish the victory.

The stadium erupts in fireworks of orange, white, and green, as the Irish team takes victory laps around the pitch, celebrating with the fans.

Regina cheers as the players race past them and then turns to Robin to gloat, rubbing it in that she picked the winning team over him. He’d begrudge her that it was beginner’s luck, but the smile on her face is so radiant that he can’t bring himself to mind losing.

* * *

 

The campground is one big party after the game, a cacophony of singing, chanting, and random fireworks as the Irish make merry well into the night. Luckily, Henry and Roland seem content to celebrate in their tent rather than explore the wide array of festivities going on outside, so Regina doesn’t have to worry about them getting lost. Robin’s gone off to the players’ housing to find Alan and congratulate him on a game well played despite the loss, making Regina even more grateful that the boys are in the tent since she’s down to just one pair of eyes to watch them.

“And did you see when the Irish Keeper knocked the Quaffle away with the end of his broom?” Roland asks excitedly, pretending like he’s sitting on a broomstick. “He went- kapow! And then ker-chik!” He spins around like the Keeper did in the game, giggling all the while. 

“Yeah, that one Chaser didn’t know what happened!” Henry laughs, standing on the couch. “He looked like a Bludger hit him in the face, he was so surprised!” He jumps down from the couch just as a loud bout of Irish music erupts outside, and both he and Roland launch into a sloppy Irish jig. 

Regina laughs as she watches them from the armchair, shaking her head at their antics. They might be growing up, but there’s still a good bit of youthful excitement in them, and for that, she’s grateful. “Don’t let Robin hear you celebrate,” she says, pulling a knee up to her chest. “He’ll be crestfallen if we all turn against Bulgaria.”

“He’s tough, he can handle it,” Henry dismisses, locking arms with Roland to spin around in their dance despite the music from outside dying away. A swell of voices and shouting replaces the music, and then the boys stop dancing as they all turn to look at the tent flaps in confusion.

A second later, Robin hurries into the tent, frazzled as he looks around at the three of them, making sure they’re all there.

“The Irish getting bit rambunctious, Robin?” Henry asks, letting go of Roland’s arm.

“It’s not the Irish,” Robin says seriously, his tone making Regina stand up. “We need to leave. Now.”

“What’s-” Regina starts to say, but then a sharp scream comes from outside, and she and Robin rush to the tent door, the boys right behind them.

It’s chaos. Smoke billows across the sky, making it difficult to see in the night, but the large fires burning their way through the campground shed an ominous orange glow on everything and everyone as hordes of people trample over each other in their haste to get away from…  _ something.  _ More screams pierce the air, and Regina whips around to find the source of them, her stomach bottoming out when she sees the cause of the mayhem.

A group of ten or so people are marching through the campground, holding torches as they light nearly everything on fire. Their heads are covered in black hoods, their eyes the only part of their faces visible, but Regina doesn’t need to see them to know who they are. What they are.

Death Eaters.

Here.

“Get the boys to the Portkey!” Robin shouts over the chaos as he reaches into his robes for his wand. “Don’t wait for me! Get them out and stick together!”

“No! Robin-” Regina protests, trying to grab onto his arm, but he’s racing away before she can stop him, heading  _ into  _ the danger, and not  _ away  _ from it. She wants to run after him, wants to keep him  _ safe,  _ but she can’t leave the boys, cannot leave them alone in this madness. So she keeps her eyes on Robin for a second longer and then grabs onto the boys’ shoulders. “We are going to the Portkey!” she yells, straining to be heard over the screaming and the- fucking hell, the Death Eaters are  _ chanting  _ now. “Do not let go of me, understand?!”

Both boys nod, eyes wide with fright and shock, and then they’re hurrying through the crowd, weaving and dodging around people, holding onto each other for dear life. The Portkey is not that far away, maybe five minutes beyond the edge of the campground, but it feels like an eternity, like they’re going nowhere and they need to  _ leave.  _ The crowd around them grows, thickens, and soon they’re packed together, being pushed forward by the shear momentum of the thousands of people around them.

Regina has one hand on Roland’s arm, and the other on Henry’s, her knuckles white as she grips them with everything she has, pulling them along with her. But then the crowd takes over, the crowd is pushing her forward and Roland gets pushed with her, but Henry gets pulled back, and he’s slipping, slipping-

“Henry!” she screams over the cacophony, reaching blindly out for him, trying to fight against the people moving her forward, but the crowd is too much for her to resist. “Henry!”

She sees his face through the hordes of people as he gets further and further away, his eyes wide as he tries to push past everyone between them, but then he disappears completely, swallowed by the madness and the mob.

* * *

 

The grounds are quiet now, eerily still in the aftermath of the Death Eater attack.

Death Eaters.

Here.

Robin can hardly believe it. He’s heard whispers of the Dark Lord’s followers trying to reemerge, trying to return to their former power, but he didn’t think anything would actually come from it. He certainly didn’t think an attack of this caliber, at an event this large, would happen. 

But it did, and here he is, searching the campground for any remaining Death Eaters or any innocent bystanders who may have been hurt in the chaos. The Death Eaters fled once enough people started to fight back, mostly wizards employed by the Ministry and members of the old Order of the Phoenix like Robin. Emma Swan showed up out of the blue, most likely called by the Auror office to help contain the attack, and Fergus DunBroch, Merida’s father, jumped in to help as well, his old Order instincts igniting again. 

It’s surreal, having to do this again, having to keep an eye out for those who swear fealty to the Dark Lord. He saw Regina’s face when she saw the Death Eaters, the horror and old pain in her eyes, and his heart cracked at her fear. He can only hope she and the boys made it to the Portkey, that they are safe back at the cottage. Dumbledore, please let them be safe…

All of a sudden, there’s a loud cracking sound and the sky lights up dark green, a blast of magic ascending into the clouds. It bursts and then spreads, twisting the clouds to take the shape of a symbol Robin is all too familiar with. The symbol etched onto Regina’s forearm. The Dark Mark.

“Robin!” Emma hisses from his left, grabbing his attention and pointing several meters ahead, to where the Mark originated from. Someone’s standing there, a dark figure, impossible to make out in the night.

He nods and follows, silently weaving through the wreckage of the campground, wand at the ready. There’s several other members of the Ministry moving toward the same spot, creating a circle around the figure. And then, at Emma’s signal, they all jump out at once, a collective “ _ Stupefy!”  _ shouted among them.

The person ducks and avoids the spells, and Robin’s expecting them to run, preparing to cast another hex, when the figure turns around, and he sees-

“Henry!” he shouts, climbing over broken tents and destroyed artifacts. Another spell goes whizzing past, toward Henry, but he moves out of the way just in time. “Stop! That’s my godson! Stop!”

He reaches Henry and immediately pulls him into a tight embrace, both to comfort him and protect him from any other wayward spells that might have been cast. “Are you alright? What happened? Why are you still here?” he asks, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Where’s Roland and Regina?”

“I-I got separated,” Henry stammers, eyes wide in fear and confusion. “The crowd- it split us up. And then I got knocked in the head by something, and woke up here-”

“You boy!” a loud and imposing voice calls, making Henry jump.

The Minister of Magic, Mr. Chrysostom Midas, comes hurrying over and knocks Robin out of the way, grabbing Henry by the collar. “How dare you cast that Mark! How dare you!”

“I beg your pardon,” Robin says sternly, stepping in between them. “But Henry did not cast that Mark. And I would appreciate if you refrained from throwing around accusations.”

“Accusations?” the Minister spits back, face red with anger. “The Mark is there and the boy is here, Locksley. I don’t see anyone else around, do you?”

“There was someone else!” Henry interjects, pushing past Robin to face the Minister himself. “A man, he was over there. He looked at me and then said… said some kind of spell, I don’t know, I’d never heard it before, and then  _ that _ appeared in the sky.”

“ _ Morsmordre,”  _ Emma supplies gravely, coming to stand beside Robin. “Is that what he said, Henry?”

“Yes, I think so,” Henry says, brow furrowed. “And then he ran off… that way.” Henry points toward the tree line in the distance.

“Did you see what he looked like?” Midas asks impatiently.

“Not really… it was dark,” Henry answers glancing at Robin for reassurance.

“It’s alright, Henry, they’ll find him,” Robin says, squeezing his shoulder. “The important thing is that you’re safe.”

_ “Henry!” _

All heads whip around, some raising wands, to see Regina hurrying through the wreckage toward them, Roland just behind her. “Henry!” she exclaims again, hugging him fiercely. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? I am so,  _ so  _ sorry! The crowd- I couldn’t fight it, and-”

“It’s okay,” Henry interrupts, voice muffled into her shoulder. “I’m fine. I should have held onto you tighter.”

Regina holds him out at arm’s length and inspects him up and down. “You’re alright, then? No cuts, no bruises, no broken bones?”

Henry shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing of the sort.”

Regina exhales in relief and then pulls him back into a hug, squeezing tightly before finally releasing him. She cups his chin and smiles at him before her gaze shifts to the left, noticing Midas for the first time. Her spine visibly stiffens and she looks down, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Minister,” she murmurs in acknowledgement. 

“Ms. Mills,” he returns with a detached coolness. The disapproval in his tone is undeniable. He stares at her for a long moment before turning to the rest of the small group. “Very well, let’s get looking for whoever might have cast that mark. They might have not gotten far.”

As the rest of the Ministry workers head off into the night, Regina tilts her head up toward the sky, the color draining from her face. “Robin,” she says with a gulp, panic creeping into her voice. “It’s-”

“I know,” he murmurs softly, pulling her into him, cupping the back of her head. “I know.” The boys are, thankfully, distracted with one another, Henry filling Roland in on what happened, what he saw, so they don’t notice the way Regina starts to shake slightly, her fists tight as she grips the back of his shirt.

“Henry saw someone cast it,” Robin says quietly, swirling comforting circles at the base of her spine. “They’re looking for him now. They’ll find him, love. They’ll find him and this whole thing will blow over. I promise.”

She doesn’t answer, just presses her nose tighter against his shoulder, trying to draw strength from him.

Robin exhales slowly and drops a kiss to her brow, glancing up at the Dark Mark hovering above them and then down at Henry who is watching them with trepidation. As much as he wants to believe it, Robin has an unsettling feeling that this is not going to blow over anytime soon. Not by a long shot. 

Dumbledore help them.


End file.
